


Sweet Pleasure

by sergeirox2121



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Sex, blowjob, slickX????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8525581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeirox2121/pseuds/sergeirox2121
Summary: i have no idea who made this or why. i found this on my google drive a week ago. the date of creation was 10/16/15. if anyone can give me a hand on trying to find the original creator it would help me out a lot. the following fanfiction is completely unaltered from the original. i do not own undertale and i did not take any part in writing this. EDIT: it turns out that the original author was Lukas Kawika. thanks for helping me out!





	

It had been a few days since the destruction of the barrier separating our world from the one above, at the peak of the capital. Being a monster, most expected me to go to the surface along with the rush of people, my family among them: my brother, though slightly dimwitted, held a high position in the Royal Guard and was expected to be ready to leave as soon as the King. However, I’m not as simple of a dog-monster as him: I had a few things to finish at home; after hearing the news, I did make plans to pack up and join them, but… there was someone who impeded that plan, someone who took me a bit by surprise.

 

I ran a small cinnamon farm past the edge of a town beyond the capital. Most businesses shut down as soon as they heard the news, and I soon followed - who would want to purchase a seasonal spice when they can enjoy a life the likes of which nobody here has felt in a long time? Still, there lingered an odd bittersweet pleasure in walking the grounds of my farm, which would look to anyone else like any over-green forest: tall trees of a height disproportionate to how you could easily wrap both hands around most trunks, low-lying shrubs and tanglers that caught at the hem of your pants or the fur of your lower legs and ankles…

 

...a small clearing that I didn’t think had been there before, in the middle of which glimmered a patch of short yellow flowers that certainly hadn’t been there. It was what was on those flowers that startled me the most, though: another monster, white-furred and horned, goatlike in appearance. He sat there looking slightly confused, totally naked except for a heart-shaped locked around his neck, then turned a pair of soft eyes up to me and said:

 

“Ah. Hello. Do you think you could tell me where I am? And where I can find some clothes?”

 

He followed me back to my house, eyes lifted to the canopy of the trees above in looking around; “it smells really nice here”, he mused once. After spending so much time with the trees and working the spice, I could no longer quite pick up the scent of cinnamon, when it used to tinge the air as if in a soft mist and linger in my nostrils even long after I’d left. After stepping inside - I asked him about himself along the way, and quickly found out that something had happened to his memory - and searching for some clothes to fit him, I realized where he seemed slightly familiar from: now having him standing up in front of me, long ears hanging down on his shoulders and curved horns providing an unforeseen resistance to him tugging the provided shirt down over his head, he looked almost exactly like a slim, young version of King Asgore. In fact, the resemblance was so uncanny…

 

“What’s your name?” I asked while trying to help him with his shirt. He stood a few inches taller than me, so I had to stand on a chair to be able to properly be of any assistance - and when my fingers touched the fur along his arms, they picked up a sweet sort of warmth that made me almost not want to let him go.

 

“I dunno.”

 

“You don’t know?”

 

Even while trying to work the neck of the shirt down over his horns with one hand, he kept the hem of it above his eyes with the other and looked around at my small house, drinking in all of the details - from the family picture on a dresser, to a decorative tapestry bearing the royal crest, to the television in one corner that currently played Mettaton’s Menagerie, a wildlife show, to the calendar hanging by the door, all of the days leading up to the day the barrier broke crossed out.

 

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Don’t you remember?”

 

“No.” After some more struggling, he finally huffed a sigh, batted at my hands with his, and tugged the shirt up off of his horns. It was torn in four places. “I don’t really remember much of anything…”

 

He appeared to drift off into thought then, hands gently turning the shirt over and over as if the texture of the fabric reminded him of something. That’s a feeling we’re all familiar with, that frustrating sensation of something only half-remembered. Realizing my own hands had dropped to the short, warm fur of his shoulders and that my help was no longer needed, I stepped down from the chair and pushed it back under the table.

 

“So…”

 

His ears made the general motion of perking up, but due to their droopiness only managed a very slight upwards twitch. Then, he flicked his eyes away from the tapestry bearing the royal crest - my father had always been a Dreemurr loyalist and supporter, and that banner had cost him about a year’s worth of savings - and brought them to rest again on me. “Hm?”

 

“If you can’t remember your name, why don’t we give you a new one?”

 

“Tell me yours first.”

 

“Mine?”

 

“Yes.”

 

On first finding him sitting there on the patch of golden flowers, I’d expected to do nothing more than bring him home, get him some clothes, patch him up if needed, and then send him on his way, whatever or wherever that might be; I hadn’t expected to get to know him or for him to ask my name. However, having made my way back around the table so that he now looked at me straight-on, the pants I’d found for him a little tight on him, his gentle eyes looking expectantly up at me, that heart locket of his shimmering sunset-red on the snowy field of his bare chestfur… it was like trying to say no to the Prince of the Underground if he were to suddenly come back to life and ask me to be his friend - and given this stranger’s appearance and bearing, I admittedly had started to wonder…

 

It wasn’t hard to return the sweet, ghostly smile that he seemed to always wear. “Slick. My name is Slick.”

 

“Slick, huh? That’s a nice name.” He looked back to the tapestry. “My name… is…” ...but he trailed off, and then smiled apologetically up at me. Strange: before I’d stumbled across him, I had a detailed list in my mind of things to do, but now that I’d brought him back home, my hands fumbled with the little knick-knacks on top of the dresser, rearranging things that didn’t need rearranging as if looking for something to do, and my mind was blank of what to do other than stay here and speak with him. “...I’m sorry,” he finally went on, “could I… stay here with you for a while? Just until I get my head back on straight?”

“Yes,” my mouth said before I’d had time to properly think about it, “of course.”

 

The way his eyes lit up washed away whatever doubt or worry had started to brew in my heart as the result of such a quick answer. We remained looking at each other for another moment before my hand, still idly fiddling with the things on the dresser, knocked a pretty rock I’d found by the nearby river down to the wooden floor, the clatter of which shocked me back to my senses. “S-so…” I began, stooping over to put it back in its place even though my guest had gotten to his feet to help, “would you please help me pack? I don’t know if you remember or even know about it, but - the barrier at the capital is gone, and I plan to travel to the surface within the week…”

 

He turned out to be quite the help, dutifully and even happily obliging to the small assistances I asked of him: lugging firewood and furniture to the cellar in case I ever chose to return, washing clothes in the river with me - here he showed the boyish side of his personality, when I accidentally splashed him and he retaliated with a larger splash directed at me, which led to a back-and-forth affair that finally ended with us lying side-by-side on the sun-warmed gravelly bank, breathless from laughing - and other such things, easily cutting the time it would have taken for me alone to do the same work in half and more than tripling the enjoyment of it all due to simple companionship.

 

I hadn’t had someone I could call a friend in a long, long time. When I asked him about it over dinner, he murmured “I don’t remember my last friend…” in such a voice that I refrained from looking up at him. When I finally did, however, after noticing he hadn’t taken another bite in a while, he was giving me this dumb grin that I could only assume he’d been holding since he first answered the question. We both broke into laughter again.

 

Then, night fell, and it took me some time to work up the courage to tell him something I’d just realized. He was lounging in my chair before the TV watching Cooking With A Killer Robot when I brought it up with him. “So…”

 

“Mm?”

 

It warmed my heart and reinforced my confidence to see how quickly he muted the show. Suddenly, I realized that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. “I… only have one bed. Nowhere for one of us to sleep. It’s too dark to run into town, and what with everyone leaving, I doubt I’ll find a shop open to sell a mattress…”

 

“Could we put one together out of leaves and straw?” he suggested outright. Admittedly, my thoughts had a tendency to get muddled whenever I looked at or spoke to him, my tongue sometimes tripped over my words, my cheeks and ears started to feel warm…

 

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, I-”

 

But he stood up, stepped outside for a minute, and then returned with an armful of straw from behind the house. I helped him set it down and then drape two blankets over it for extra cushioning - and then had to stop him as he started to lower himself down to it.

 

“No - you take the bed; you’re my guest. It’s the least I could do.”

 

“The least? Slick, you’re allowing me to stay here. I don’t want to be a burden-”

 

“You’re not a burden, really. Thanks to your help there’s just a few more things to pack, when doing this by myself would have taken much longer…”

 

His eyes looked darker in this light, glittering like a smooth stone taken from the bottom of a river, like the one I’d accidentally knocked over earlier.

 

I smiled. “You take the bed, or I’ll make you.”

 

He lifted his eyebrows and said “And how do you expect to do that?” but put up no more resistance before going over to lower himself to the edge of the mattress, the makeshift bed on the ground perpendicular to it After I, too, settled down to sleep, I found myself wondering whether he’d be able to sleep alright what with the horns on either side of his head, which were by no understanding of the word diminutive, but he didn’t seem to mind: whatever ordeal had left him lost, bemused, and naked on a patch of flowers in a cinnamon grove must have thoroughly exhausted him, for he was snoring softly even before I‘d managed to tug my own shirt off.

 

That night I dreamt of the surface world, of the sun warming my fur and the scent of fresh air and vibrant life tickling my nose - and then, suddenly, there was a hint of the unmistakable aroma of cinnamon passing by, the aroma that I’d long since grown accustomed to and that I hadn’t been able to smell in such a long time… sometime in the middle of the night I briefly woke up to find a white-furred hand draped down over the edge of the mattress and resting on my shoulder, and then fell back asleep again…

 

...and then woke up again with a shaft of sunlight from the nearby window across my face and no fingers grazing over my shoulder. Bleary-eyed from sleep, it took a moment of me sitting up and rubbing at my face before I could see anything clearly. The noise of me sitting up startled my guest, who was bent over the dresser on the other side of the room looking at something…

 

“Oh - sorry…” he muttered, and made as if to put down what he held in his hand, the picture of my family, but didn’t. He only lowered it slightly and kept his eyes focused on it.

 

Perhaps family was a sore subject with him - that’s still unclear to me. I lifted myself to my feet, stretched my arms over my head, and went over to stand next to him, not bothering to move when the back of my hand brushed against the fur of his. I noticed that he didn’t move, either.

 

“Look…” I said. His ears did the thing again where they tried to raise up but couldn’t. “Here’s my mother, and my father… he bought that nice tapestry on the wall over there, with the royal crest…”

 

“That’s what that is?”

 

“Mhmm… and here’s my brother…” This picture was taken before he’d joined the royal guard. I’d like to say that it’s been a while since I’ve seen him without his bulbous armor on, but to tell the truth, I’ve only seen him in person once since he joined up, and that was to say goodbye to him on his first day. “...and his wife, too, I wonder how she’s doing… you know, I’ve always been a little shocked that someone like my brother could neb someone for himself, much less a wife… and then there’s me, and… that’s…”

 

...a face that I hadn’t seen in a long time outside of the photo, a face that used to ignite a fire in my heart and make me wonder just how I could ever be unhappy. It was a face that I used to awaken next to each morning, a face that carried me through tough times and bolstered my determination in good ones.

 

I sighed. “That’s someone I used to love.”

 

He looked sideways at me, not fully taking his eyes off the photo. “Used to?”

 

“Gone now. It’s not something that can ever happen again.”

 

“Mm…” He traced a couple of fingers over the frame of the picture. “...I think I used to love someone, too.”

 

Eager to change the subject- “Is that where you got that locket of yours?”

 

“What? Locket?”

 

I pointed; his hand came up and closed around the pendant. No matter how much I looked at it (which was more than I’d willingly admit: he hadn’t put on a shirt at all the previous day, and all of dinner sitting across from him gave me an opportunity to look up from eating at his chest…) I couldn’t quite tell if it was some sort of crimson gem, or forged from metal that had been dyed somehow, or something else. It was pretty, though, and complemented his eyes.

 

“Oh, this - no, this is… something else…” His eyes flicked up again to the tapestry bearing the royal crest, and then he dropped his hand to his side. “Hey, is there somewhere I can bathe? I’d like to say I can’t remember when the last time I washed was, but… well… you know.”

 

And there was that dumb grin again, though a bit muted in light of the conversation. Again, it wasn’t hard at all to return it, despite the gentle thrumming of my heart from digging up such memories again.

 

“Yeah,” I answered, and set the picture back down. “I’ll grab some towels, and if you want, you can go ahead and head down to the river… I apologize, it’s certainly not the best bathing option, but again, I doubt we’d be able to find somewhere else willing to receive us…”

 

“Oh, that’s quite alright. I’d just like to get some of this dirt out of my fur…”

 

I lingered a little in grabbing the towels and soap, mind aflame with all sorts of different scenarios involving this strange (and rather attractive, I finally admitted to myself) goat-monster. First finding him in my grove like that left me a little nervous about him, but after sitting down with him and talking with him, after watching his eyes and seeing his smile… well.

 

I was hopeless, wasn’t I?

 

Of course I’d expected him to go ahead and dive into the river, especially after my delay, but instead I broke through the thinning line of trees to see him sitting with his toes in the water and his arms around his knees, looking out over the water to the other side. He didn’t seem to notice me step up to him, and only jumped a little when I dropped the towels beside him.

 

“Hey…” I knelt down next to him. “Everything alright?”

 

His ears lifted up, and he smiled. His heart locket glinted in the morning sun. “Yeah. I was just walking over here on my own, and thinking...if you hadn’t found me yesterday, I’d still be wandering around somewhere, lost, not knowing who I am, and uh… naked, so…” -and then his arms were around my shoulders and his muzzle in my neck, and I felt heart pounding in my chest. The scent of something like cinnamon gently wafted off of him, but a little different, a little richer, a little sweeter… “...thanks.” He didn’t seem to mind when I, too, brought my arms up around his back and hugged him in return, keeping my nose in the fur of his neck where that scent mingled with the warmth of his body…

 

Confidence bolstered by this unexpected show of affection from him, when he started to pull back from me, instead of doing the same, I brought my hands up to his shoulders and then gently pushed him down onto his back; already slightly off-balance, he fell back with a soft oof and peered curiously up at me. I couldn’t say just what it was about him, but there certainly was something that made me want to be close to him-

 

“You’ve given me something that I haven’t had in a long time,” I found myself saying. He lifted his eyebrows a little, as if surprised but interested - and I don’t know if it was just me, but given where on him I was sitting, maybe I could feel his interest too…

 

“Mm? What would that be?”

 

“Companionship. Friendship.” I shrugged. He hadn’t yet pushed me off of him, which was a good sign. “I’d like to pay you back…”

 

...my face suddenly burned with a hot blush upon realizing what the hell I’d just let escape my lips, but again, it didn’t look like he minded. In fact, the gentle expression on his face almost made me think that he had expected me to say something like that, as if he already knew how I felt… but, yet, he didn’t say anything or do anything to advance the situation. Embarrassment starting to get the better of me, I mumbled an apology and started to stand up-

 

-and then there was a warm white-furred hand on the back of my neck tugging me down, a pair of lips against mine, another hand slowly tracing down the small of my back - and all of the worry that bogged down my heart melted away. The murmuring of the river, the whispering of wind in the boughs of my cinnamon trees above, the gentle thrumming of my heart in my ears… and then, the soft noise of the kiss breaking when he pulled back, cool eyes flicking between mine.

 

“...You’re really sweet, Slick…” he breathed, and drew his nose up my cheek in a little nuzzle. “You know that? There I was, alone and confused, and you came along and took time out of your own day to be sure that I was alright and that I knew where I was going, so…”

 

His hand closed around my wrist and guided it down around my body to his belly, and then past there to the front of his pants. The warmth there easily overtook the warmth I felt in my cheeks, and then when he lifted up in response to me pressing down into him…

 

“...if you want to pay me back, I’d be rude to refuse.”

 

I’d gotten a good look at him when I first found him, and now as I moved down his body and fiddled with the fastenings of his pants, I could full drink in the sight of him without feeling abashed or guilty in the slightest - and, hell, his hand lowered to my head and scritched behind one of my ears, and with me being a dog-monster, such encouragement… well. Also being a dog-monster, my nose picked up things in scents that otherwise would go unnoticed, and in the thicker pubic fur of this goat with the long horns and pretty eyes there definitely lingered that same cinnamon-like spice that I’d first picked up on his neck, and… God.

 

I closed my eyes and ran my nose up along the underside of his length, definitely already half-hard from the brief kiss and moments spent so close to one another. A gentle sigh escaped his lips when the track of my nose was then followed by my tongue, and then again and again, until I settled to focus on the head of his cock… I was no stranger to this, but never had I found myself doing it to someone that I’d just met the previous day. I couldn’t really explain it other than to say that there really was something different about this one, something about him that captured my attention, my heart, and my interest.

 

It wasn’t a lie when I’d said that I wanted to pay him back - however, in truth, the main reasoning behind this was that I just simply wanted him. I don’t know if he expected me to bring him all the way to the edge and then push him over that edge with my tongue and lips, because he quickly took up a rhythm of slowly moving his hips up and down into my muzzle, each time bringing my nose closer to the base of his length, and - God - I did want to feel him empty himself onto my tongue and into my throat. I wanted to be able to feel each spurt in my lips tight around him, wanted to be able to look up at his face and see the effects on him… but, even more, I wanted to ride that pleasure out of him. I wanted him to dig his claws into my thighs, to have to bite his lip to keep from moaning out to loudly, to see his eyes scrunched up and feel him lift me up off the ground when it finally surged through him.

 

He gave no complaint when I came up off of him, wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, fumbled briefly with my own pants before dropping them only slightly, and then shifted back up over him to near where I had originally been sitting. Instead, eyes a little unfocused still as a result of him being about seven inches in my throat, he shifted a bit to make it easier for me to reach back and direct him under my tail, already considerably slickened with saliva - and those eyes of his just drifted back shut when I started to lower down onto him, fingers in the soft fur of his chest, gripping on and digging in.

 

“-God,” he breathed, and I voiced a similar sentiment. There was the familiar discomfort that always came with first settling down onto someone, but pushing through that - because were the barrier to reform within the next ten minutes, I don’t think I’d be able to will myself up off of him - and sinking down further onto him, slowly, feeling his girth and his heat… my hands on his chest could pick up his heartbeat, th-thump, th-thump, more pronounced and elevated than when he’d hugged me a moment ago.

 

His back arched up off of the gravelly riverbank, in turn lifting me up a little as well, but still I sank down onto him, eyes closed and mouth half-open, every now and then having to pull myself back up and then resume moving down on him… and then, finally, I felt the pressure of his hips against my rump, coupled with the start of a tingling electrical sensation in that general area that galvanized me to remain down on him for only a quick moment before bracing my hands in his chest and lifting back up, just as slowly as I’d first gone down on him.

 

The locket half-buried under the thick fur of his upper chest shimmered and glinted with each soft exhalation of his, be it a sigh or a moan or anything else; his horns grinded against the loose gravel beneath his head, and I could hear the edge of the water gently splash against his toes each time he moved his foot or curled or uncurled those toes. The only thing that really held and lingered in my mind, though, was the want to pleasure both him and myself; I was well on my way, and given the tight little movements and twitches of his body as well as throbs beneath my tail, it looked like so far I had done a good job on him.

 

A little bit of difficulty came both from me being out of practice and from him being a bit thicker than I was used to, but as long as I took it slowly… I could keep my hands tight on his shoulders for support while churning my rump up and down, up and down on him, against the gentle rhythm with which he moved his own hips. While riding him and slowly, slowly gaining speed, I searched all of my memories to determine where he looked familiar from, if anywhere - or why it felt like I knew him - but I couldn’t come up with anything. He was just a strange goat-monster who also couldn’t remember, and who had stunning eyes, a pretty locket, a wonderful scent, and quite an enjoyable ‘presence’, so to say…

 

Things just went on from there, especially as I became more and more accustomed to his length and thickness. My own cock stood out above the open front of my pants, bobbing close to the fur of my lower belly each time I sank back down onto him and drooling out a small drip of pre down into his white fur. His claws did just as I wanted and expected, gently digging into the flesh of my legs and guiding me in my movements, the pain gentle but slightly invigorating… soon I half-opened my eyes to see him with his lips squeezed tight into a thin line, his eyes shut, and his brow furrowed as if in concentration, as if in trying to hold himself back from something.

 

Bobbing up and down in bouncing on him, taking him by almost his full length at a time, it was a little tough to lean down close to his ear without bumping my nose against the gravel beneath him, but that really didn’t matter: either way I could still just manage, in a low, raspy voice, “fuck me-”

 

-and I guess that was the encouragement he needed, because no sooner had I said that did he bring his hands up to my side, pull me bodily off of him, and then swiftly flip us around so that it was my back that lay against the gravel with him above me, between my legs. The look in his eyes only made things easier for him: that look made me reach my arms out for balance as he hiked my legs up over his shoulders, lifted my rump and lower back onto his legs, and then leaned over me, taking only a second to plunge back into me - which, in this position, pushed a breathy moan out of me. One hand holding one of my legs up, the other one pressing into the middle of my chest pushing me down - everything was up to him, now, and I could tell how much he wanted this by the speed and force with which he thrust in and out of me, enough so that his hips audibly slapped against my rump with each push in.

 

If he made any noises, I wasn’t able to hear them over my own. Feeling the rough gravel against my back, feeling the weight of his hand on my chest coupled with his claws gently digging in, feeling his thickness and the slight contours of his length as he fiercely fucked me, feeling the shudders and twitches of pleasure thrumming through his body… needless to say, I had some difficulty keeping myself from panting or moaning out or gasping, even when trying to keep my lips tightly closed. He had me bent so that he pounded down into me and so that were I to open my eyes and look straight forward, I’d see the muscles of his lower belly tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing while he drove into me, and my own length drooling thick pre out into the fur of my own belly… any slight touch would be enough to push me over the edge, and now I could tell that he, too, was close.

 

He half-opened his eyes, he met my gaze, we held that look for a moment; then, changing his rhythm to something slower and deeper but with no less energy, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine in another kiss - when suddenly I felt his teeth bite down on my lower lip and he slammed down into me, a few sharp exhalations of breath washing over my face from his nose, all over gentle moans and a series of throbs deep under my tail with each spurt of cum into me. Having me contorted like this and feeling his thick warmth feeling me… before I knew it, the sensation of rubbing against his body drove me over, and I spurted out my own load down onto my chest and chin in the brief space where he pulled out of the kiss to catch his breath.

 

We remained like that for a moment, both of our chests rising and falling in breaths laden with languor, struggling to keep our eyes open under the heavy influence of sweet exhaustion… and then, when I’d started to feel the soreness of him fucking me so roughly, he panted a soft laugh and then said “Guess we really should get to bathing, huh?...”

 

“Yeah…” I managed. He lifted up out of me, which just made me gasp again - and then I tugged him back down and kissed him again, this time his scent a sweet mixture of cinnamon and musk.

 

We ended up having to lean on each other towards the river, and then, it took a while before either of us could stand unsupported on our own. He had me work the soap into his fur, and - God, I sure took my time, feeling all of the contours of his sleek muscles and the form of his body… and then I got a little distracted with something else on him, and he ended up bucking forward into my hand and spurting out a second load over the slightly soapy surface of the river water. During this I had my other hand on his upper chest, over his heart locket - which definitely felt to grow warmer as he approached his orgasm.

 

Afterwards we went back home and finished packing, and while finishing up our breakfast I found a slice of a cinnamon pie that I’d made a few days before I first found him. It had been well-covered, and as such still retained its moisture - as final thanks before heading on my way, I offered it to him - “Sorry, it’s a little old…”

 

“Oh, no, no,” he said, eyes lighting up on seeing it, “that’s fine… I’m no less lost about who I am than I was yesterday, but… I…”

 

He seemed to drift off somewhere after taking one bite, and for a quick second I worried that maybe he was allergic to something in it. However, right after, he suddenly stood up, brought a hand to his locket, and looked at me.

 

“Thanks, Slick, but I just realized - I just remembered… look, thanks for everything, alright? There’s, uh… someone I need to find…”

 

“What? You’re leaving?”

 

“Yeah, I…” His hands went up to the back of his neck as if to remove his locket, but then he just lowered them back to his sides. I had given him another set of clothes, just simple things to get him along - of course, I liked him better without that clothing, but if was about to go somewhere… he met my gaze and gave me a familiar smile. “...oh, I think I decided on a name I like.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” He watched me wrap up the half-eaten slice for him. “How does ‘Asriel’ sound to you?”

 

~


End file.
